The House That Obi-Wan Built
by Smitty
Summary: Obi-Wan and Anakin find that home life isn't what it's cracked up to be.


_Disclaimer: I do not own Obi-Wan, Anakin, or the Jedi Council. Temple_   
_recollections are vaguely based on the "Jedi Apprentice" series. If_   
_George Lucas ever sells Obi-Wan, I get first dibs._   


_The House that Obi-Wan Built_   
_by Smitty_   
  


Blaster fire. Anakin Skywalker clasped his newly-constructed   
lightsaber between his small hands and concentrated on the Force. He   
could almost hear Qui-Gon telling him to use his instincts. He took a deep   
breath and let the Force guide his movements. He could feel it...he was   
sure he could. He knew where to go, he knew what angle to use. But the   
handle felt heavy and the blade was awkward. It hummed, and glowed,   
and it was sort of scary. Anakin was breathing hard. Sweat was running   
down in his eyes and he tried to blink it out of the way as he tried to keep   
up with the heavy fire. One blast slipped through and bit into Anakin's   
shoulder. A small cry escaped him, and he wished Qui-Gon was with him.   
Or at least Obi-Wan. He coughed some of the smoke from his lungs and   
was greeted with another sizzle as his lightsaber intersected another blaster   
shot. The blasts seemed everywhere, and Anakin could not keep up. His   
arm was achy and tired, and his vision was beginning to swim.   
"Obi-Wan!" he finally cried out, as another shot singed his robes.   
"Hold on!" he heard, as he swung wildly with the lightsaber, trying   
to keep out as much fire as possible. A flowing brown cloak moved in   
front of him, and Anakin hunkered down, as his world was reduced to   
brown sackcloth and red fire.   
  
  
  
"Noooooo!!!!!" Anakin shot straight up. He kept screaming until   
he realized he was no longer being overwhelmed with blaster fire and was   
safe in his own little sleepcouch on the transport ship back to Coruscant.   
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan Kenobi burst into the room, lightsaber drawn.   
He had been in the cockpit with the pilot until he heard the terrified   
screams from the small room he shared with his new Padawan. "Are you   
all right?"   
Anakin looked up at him, eyes impossibly large, small, already   
grubby hands clutching at the covers. He nodded, but his expression did   
not change.   
"What happened?" Obi-Wan asked. He glanced around, wary of   
intruders.   
"I--I had a bad dream," Anakin admitted. His heart was still   
pounding and his hands were shaking, but he didn't want to admit that to   
Obi-Wan. If it had been Qui-Gon, he would have gratefully opened his   
arms for a comforting hug and told him every detail. But this was Obi-   
Wan. Obi-Wan tried to be nice, Anakin could tell. But he couldn't shake   
the feeling the Jedi Knight did not like him. Obi-Wan had done nothing   
that seemed overtly offensive. It was just an uncomfortable feeling Anakin   
couldn't manage to shake.   
Obi-Wan Kenobi never claimed to understand children. According   
to rumor, he had been one himself, once. Even then, he had been serious   
and studious. His one mission in life was to become a Jedi Knight. Now   
that goal had been achieved, and his new one was to turn this small human   
into a Jedi. His heart went out to small boy peering at him over the   
bedclothes, and ached that his fright during the mission had been caused by   
his lack of training. That was all it was, of course. The boy simply was not   
experienced in the use of the lightsaber, and being thrust into such a   
prominent role of defense during the ambush was unfair and soul-shaking.   
But Obi-Wan would correct that. He would teach the boy the graceful   
dance that was fighting and how to harness the Force to be his guide. But   
what to do for him, now? Obi-Wan decided that if the roles were reversed,   
he would have preferred for Qui-Gon to leave him to his embarrassment   
and allow him some privacy.   
"Very well, then," he said, not unkindly. "If you are all right, I'll   
leave you be." He turned from the room, closing the door behind him.   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan leaned against the wall of the passageway outside the   
room and sighed. The boy had felt fear, today. It had overwhelmed him   
and left him sobbing, though at least coherent and aware. He was doing   
something wrong, Obi-Wan decided. The mission had been simple   
enough--protect Supreme Chancellor Palpatine during chancy negotiations   
on a war-torn planet. Civil war had eroded the once beautiful Gaclena on   
the outskirts of Republic space. The Chancellor himself would travel to   
encourage negotiations, but the terrain was dangerous, and littered with   
rebel gangs who had slaughtered the existing government and were   
enforcing a general state of anarchy. The environment was hazardous, but   
the mission was only to keep the chancellor safe. They had been surprised   
by an ambush of rebels and had been pressed to get the chancellor to   
safety. A dozen Senate guards circled Palpatine, blocking him with their   
bodies as the Captain of the Guard called for the emergency rescue ship.   
Obi-Wan had been deflecting blaster shots from the entourage and helping   
a fallen guard back to the group when he felt that Anakin was in danger   
and a moment later, heard his name shouted in terror. The boy was being   
pummeled by blaster fire and was overwhelmed by the barrage. Obi-Wan   
had sprung to his rescue, momentarily abandoning his post with the guards.   
He had swept Anakin up and put him in the hands of the chancellor. He   
was actually proud of the boy for doing so well during his first fight outside   
a spacecraft, but he could not help thinking of the dangers this presented.   
Anakin was not ready to be a Padawan. Children identified as   
strong in the Force began mastering their abilities at an impossibly young   
age and were already experts in object manipulation and lightsaber dueling   
by the time they were Anakin's age. To be chosen by a Jedi Knight as a   
Padawan learner, one had to present their skills and expertise. No Jedi   
wanted to be in the field with a child who needed defending. A Padawan   
was supposed to be an asset to the master--someone to back them up,   
someone they could depend on. Anakin needed to return to the Temple for   
training. And stay there. Obi-Wan knew, though, that may not be the   
answer, either. Like all children, the apprentices were tough on each other.   
They had all be taught tolerance and to accept differences, but Anakin was   
clearly not one of them. He was special, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. At 9,   
he was younger than some of the children who had not been chosen as   
Padawans. He had not gone through the rigorous training and meditation   
the children raised in the Temple had, but he had automatically been   
handed the one thing they all craved--an apprenticeship. Obi-Wan   
wondered idly if Anakin knew how lucky he was--he remembered a certain   
Jedi Master refusing to train him until it was almost too late. Anakin was   
also different in that although he ate and slept with them, he did not train   
with them, and had vanished for several days or weeks on more than one   
occasion when Obi-Wan was sent on some mission or another, taking them   
halfway across the galaxy. Something had to be done about this situation,   
and soon.   
  
  
  
Anakin Skywalker stared at the ceiling above his bed and tried not   
to go back to sleep. He didn't want to have the same dream again. He   
could not believe the Jedi Knight had just walked away. Sure, he was ok,   
but the dream had been frightening. He didn't really want to be alone. And   
Obi-Wan hadn't seemed like he cared in the least. He didn't even ask what   
the dream was about. A tear threatened to spill from his eye as he   
wondered what Qui-Gon would have said had he been there. He dashed it   
away angrily with the back of his hand. He wasn't going to cry. He was   
going to be a Jedi, and Jedi didn't cry. Obi-Wan didn't even cry when Qui-   
Gon died. When he had told Anakin, his face had been perfectly blank.   
Anakin had cried. He had cried a lot. And Obi-Wan had been ok with   
that. Which was good. But he was mad that he had just left.   
  


"The chancellor is now safely back in his home," Obi-Wan finished   
his report to the Jedi Council. He had purposely left out Anakin's slight   
lapse in dignity, knowing the Council would see any fault as a weakness   
that would be exploited by the Dark Side. The boy stood beside and   
slightly behind him, standing just as Obi-Wan had taught him, tucked away   
in his voluminous robe.   
"Very well." Mace Windu studied the small pad beside him. "And   
how did Padawan Skywalker perform?"   
"He is developing a strong grasp of the Force, but we need to work   
some more on his lightsaber skills."   
"Inexperienced he is," Yoda said, nodding sagely.   
"Excellent. All right," Mace Windu concluded. "You are   
dismissed." Anakin turned and walked to the door, but Obi-Wan did not   
move.   
"More to say, you have?" Yoda asked. Anakin turned and looked   
at his master."   
"I do, Master Yoda. Anakin, go on. What I have to say is private."   
He's going to tell them, Anakin thought. He's going to tell him how   
bad I screwed up the other day. He's going to tell them that they were   
right and I shouldn't be a Jedi. He's going to tell them he doesn't want me   
as a Padawan, even though he promised Qui-Gon. "Yes, Master," he   
murmured, leaving the room. He felt like a hundred pound weight was   
resting on his chest. It was all over. Three months, and it was all over. He   
had tried. Really, he had. And now, Obi-Wan didn't want him. The halls   
were empty and he realized the rest of the children were eating lunch.   
Although he was not hungry and was not looking forward to seeing the   
other children, the ones who had been at the Temple since they were   
babies, he went to the dining room and picked up a tray. He had no real   
friends, so he sat alone at the end of a table. There were a few who were   
kind to him, but they were nowhere to be seen. He did not want   
companionship now, anyway. He wanted to think. Where would he go   
now? Would he have to go home? Would he be on his own? He was lost   
in thought when a juicy pallie hit the table in front of him, crushing and   
splashing its juice across his face and his clean robes. He glanced to his   
left, seeing a pack of snickering faces directed at him.   
"Not so clean and shiny anymore, huh?" one called out to him. He   
turned back to his food, but he could not shut out the taunts.   
"Have fun playing Jedi?"   
"Too bad you can't hit anything with a lightsaber!"   
"What does Obi-Wan let you fight? A baby bantha?"   
"Naw, that's where all the ref droids have gone--Skywalker uses   
them to practice on."   
"Skywalker. Should be Swampwalker. He moves slow enough."   
Anakin knew that if he heard anymore, violence would occur. He   
had already gotten in one fight. Obi-Wan had understood, but had warned   
him that the next offense would not be handled as lightly, and Anakin did   
not want to disappoint Obi-Wan. Instead, he pushed his untouched plate   
away and went back to his room.   


  
"With the Council's permission, I'd like to take a leave of absence   
from traveling," Obi-Wan announced.   
"A leave of absence, take you?" Yoda questioned.   
"For what purpose?" Mace Windu asked, studying Obi-Wan with   
his sharp eyes.   
"My Padawan does not have the skills most Padawans have upon   
leaving the Temple. With the Council's permission, I will take him to   
another planet for a year, to school him on the techniques of lightsaber   
dueling and increase his control of the Force."   
"Went badly, did the mission?" Yoda always managed to see right   
through Obi-Wan.   
"He was overwhelmed by the blaster fire. His mistakes came only   
from lack of experience and training."   
"When a Jedi takes on a Padawan," Ki-Adi-Mundi added, "it is his   
choice. He has decided that he or she wants an individual to become his or   
her apprentice. To choose a Padawan who is ill-suited to the Jedi life is   
unwise."   
"Had I a choice," Obi-Wan said patiently, raging inside, "I would   
have waited for Anakin to be prepared. Unfortunately, I had little warning   
or choice in the matter. It was Qui-Gon's will. I am honoring his last   
wishes."   
"Go where, will you?"   
Obi-Wan took a deep breath. He had been waiting for this.   
"Malastare," he offered. "There is a small spaceport called Barant. The   
climate ranges as the seasons change, to expose Anakin to different   
mediums. We will live on the outskirts of the spaceport. This will give us   
room to train unobserved, yet close enough to town to supply ourselves   
easily and let Anakin work on his piloting skills." Obi-Wan did not   
mention the most pressing reason for choosing Malastare as a location.   
It had Podracing.   
Mace Windu glanced around the Council, seeing nods of approval.   
He glanced at Yoda for the final say.   
"Thought this out, you have."   
"I feel it is important, Master Yoda. He cannot continue to stumble   
through missions. That is dangerous for both of us. He cannot train at the   
Temple. The other children resent him for becoming a Padawan without   
any formal training and taunt him mercilessly. Children are cruel, Master."   
"Cruel to you, they were." Yoda's eyes glinted kindly upon Obi-   
Wan, who flushed slightly at the reference of his own childhood.   
"Some of them, yes."   
"And you wish to save the boy from what you experienced?"   
"No, Master Windu. He is different. In his first blindfight, he was   
beaten by a six year old who had been handling a lightsaber for 2 years. He   
simply does not have a fair chance with his peers, and what they are   
offering him is far worse than anything I have ever endured." He met Mace   
Windu's eyes, knowing that no one had ever dared pick on the man, and   
knowing he would never understand what Anakin would have to suffer.   
"Jedi Kenobi has an excellent grasp on the needs of his Padawan   
learner," Adi Gallia spoke up. A relatively junior member of the Council,   
Adi rarely spoke in hearings and Obi-Wan had never expected her support.   
Adi Gallia was a bad-ass, and looked like she would tear any aggressor   
limb for limb. "A true master senses what is best for his student's training   
and acts on that intuition. Obi-Wan should be allowed to execute his plan."   
"It is Anakin's training that is being discussed," Depa Billaba added.   
"Precedence should never compromise efficiency. Mace, think of the child.   
His learning will suffer if he is constantly stunted by ridicule and   
interrupted by missions for which he is not prepared."   
Mace Windu glanced fondly at the soft-spoken woman he had   
brought to the Temple himself, and knew that under that quiet, lilting voice   
was a mind like a steel trap and a forceful will.   
"Very well. Take your Padawan and train him on Malastare. In   
one year, return here and report on your progress."   
"Thank you, Master Windu. Master Yoda. Everyone. I am   
grateful." He bowed slightly to the Council.   
"Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you."   
He would need it, no one finished.   
  
  
  
"Anakin!" Obi-Wan pounded on the door.   
"Come in." The door slid open, and Obi-Wan burst into the room.   
Anakin was sitting in the middle of his bed.   
"Come on. Pack your things. All of them."   
"Are we going on a mission," Anakin asked, already knowing the   
answer. Or are you throwing me out? he wondered.   
"No. Anakin, we're going away from the Temple. We're going to   
train you as you should be trained. No more runny-nosed little brats   
boasting about their training or ugly missions you aren't ready to go on."   
Obi-Wan almost sounded excited. This was the first emotion   
Anakin had really seen from him. He turned a disbelieving gaze on the   
older man.   
"You mean you didn't rat me out?"   
"Rat you out?" Obi-Wan stared at him.   
"Yeah...you know, tell the Council how horrible I did on the last   
mission."   
"Oh, well, we did sit around and tell Stupid Padawan stories for a   
few hours, and it might have come up a few times--" Obi-Wan stopped   
when he saw the stricken look on Anakin's face. "Anakin, I'm joking. I   
would never make fun of you to the Council. You really think Master   
Yoda and Master Windu sit around and tell Stupid Padawan stories?"   
This comment at least brought a quick grin to Anakin's face. "No, I   
guess not," he admitted. Then the smile faded. "Guess you don't want me   
embarrassing you anymore by losing to babies, huh?"   
"Anakin." Obi-Wan sat down beside him on the bed. "I'm not in   
any way ashamed of you. Please don't think that I am." He noticed the   
boy was fighting back tears.   
"I hate it here, Obi-Wan!" he finally shouted. "They make fun of   
me and tease me and today at lunch they threw pallies at me and..." he   
choked off and sniffed, trying to remain stoic.   
Obi-Wan froze. He was at a total loss. "But, you're going away,   
Anakin," he said, softly, trying to grasp onto anything he could. "I'm   
taking you away to train. You won't have to see them again until you can   
beat them all with one hand tied behind your back."   
Anakin wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked up at him.   
"And Anakin," he said, finally knowing what might make it better.   
"We're going to Malastare."   
"Why Malastare?"   
Obi-Wan smiled. "Well, I thought it might remind you of   
Tatooine."   
Anakin looked at him skeptically. "Why? Do they have a ton of   
dust and no anti-slavery laws?"   
Obi-Wan shook his head slowly. "No. Neither of those. Keep   
thinking."   
Anakin wrinkled up his face in thought and wondered what might   
be on Malastare that had Obi-Wan so excited. Where had he heard of   
Malastare before? The answer hit him.   
"Podracing? You picked a planet with Podracing?"   
Obi-Wan's answer was a broad grin.   
"Oh, wow! That's so awesome! I'll have to start building a new   
pod!"   
"I'm afraid you can't compete," Obi-Wan said, warningly. "But you   
can certainly go see a few of the races."   
"I can't compete? Why not?"   
"It's dangerous," he said. "And gambling is against the Jedi code.   
You would not be able to accept any of the reward money." Excluding, of   
course, Qui-Gon's less than stellar example, his mind chided.   
"But what if I just raced and gave the money away?"   
"We'll talk about it later, all right, Anakin. Pack your things and be   
ready to leave within the hour."   
"Ok." It was better than nothing.   
  
  
  
"Can I drive?"   
They had arrived at the small spaceport of Barant. It was even   
smaller than Mos Espa, Anakin's former home on Tatooine, and it had   
taken Obi-Wan almost an hour to find someone with a landspeeder to sell.   
"Do you know where we're going?" he asked the boy.   
Anakin studied the ground. "Not exactly."   
"I thought not." Obi-Wan himself had never seen the place. He   
had bought it from the city and had general directions, but at least he was   
more familiar with the directions than his Padawan. They got in the   
landspeeder and headed north.   
  
  
  
"What a dump!" Anakin Skywalker surveyed the small cottage.   
It wasn't that bad, Obi-Wan thought, although he had originally   
shared his apprentice's stated position on the place. The paint was   
gunmetal gray and peeling in multiple places. One of the shutters hung at   
an angle.   
"Not at all," he said, instead. "If we want to improve it, we'll have   
to do it ourselves. Start a list. We'll figure out what we need. Start with   
paint."   
"Let's start with a new place."   
"Anakin." Obi-Wan looked him squarely in the eye. The boy's   
attitude was going to need to be checked immediately. "Remember what   
Qui-Gon told you? That your focus determines your reality? Focus on the   
positive and how we can fix this...mess. Grumbling has very little influence   
on the Force."   
Anakin stared at him for a minute, looking like he wanted to put up   
a fuss, then nodded, grudgingly.   
"All right, then. What color do you want?"   
"Brown."   
"Like your home on Tatooine? All right."   
"Wait, no." Obi-Wan waited as Anakin scrunched up his face. "I   
want a blue house. I like blue."   
"All right, then, make sure you put blue paint on the list. Let's go   
inside." Obi-Wan tried to open the door with the key he had picked up in   
town. The key worked, but the door was stuck and the hinges creaked   
awfully. "Add oil to the list."   
Anakin dutifully wrote down oil on his pad and followed Obi-Wan   
into the dark living room. "There's no furniture," he noticed in awe.   
"No. We'll sleep on bedrolls for a bit, and I'll build us some   
furniture. Put some lumber on the list."   
"You build stuff?"   
"Very well, actually."   
Anakin wrote "wood" down, surprised by the news of Obi-Wan's   
hidden talent. He trailed Obi-Wan into a small room in the back.   
"This will be your room. Write down what you would like to be in   
it."   
Anakin wrote down a bed, some shelves, a workbench, and a few   
other things he thought up. Then, he added PODRACER in big letters at   
the bottom of that list. He followed Obi-Wan through the even smaller   
space that would be the Jedi's room, the bathroom, and a large enclosed   
porch that Obi-Wan said would be the training room. Then, they went to   
the kitchen.   
"This is filthy," Obi-Wan murmured under his breath. "Anakin,   
write down cleansers and disinfectants. We'll need a set of pots and pans.   
Place settings. Food."   
"You mean we're actually going to try to cook something in this   
place?" Anakin asked, looking at the place in disgust.   
"You want to eat, don't you?"   
"I don't know. Not if you make it in here."   
"Put it on the list anyway."   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan Kenobi lay on his bedroll in the small room he had   
allotted himself. What had he gotten himself into? He was just barely a   
Jedi Knight. What was he doing, trying to say that he could take on a   
Padawan? Especially one with no prior skills in Force manipulation or   
lightsaber dueling. And especially when he had just rejected any assistance   
the Jedi Council could grant him. He found himself missing Qui-Gon   
terribly. Anakin's training and upbringing was now his sole responsibility.   
The list of repairs and chores that needed to be done filled several pages.   
He knew the key to completing his jobs was to work on each one steadily   
and carefully, and not give in to the temptation to let these responsibilities   
overwhelm him. He had ignored Anakin's written plea for a Podracer,   
choosing to concentrate on getting the house in shape before allowing that   
argument to surface. His stomach growled, and he sighed. He had a   
carton of ration sticks to last them for a few days, but they certainly weren't   
very tasty or filling. He was going to have to cook Anakin some decent   
food, soon enough, and cooking was not a chore he was familiar with. He   
used to cook Yoda's gruel, but Qui-Gon had been a regular gourmet, and   
always cooked when they were left to their own devices. Ah, well, he   
thought, how hard could it be? Qui-Gon made wonderful food with very   
little effort. Certainly Obi-Wan could prepare some simple dishes without   
too much strife. He shifted on the bedroll, trying to get comfortable, and   
sensed a presence in the doorway. He shot straight up, hand reaching for   
the lightsaber next to him, until he saw it was only Anakin.   
"Anakin, are you all right?"   
Anakin nodded. "Yeah. I just can't sleep. My room's kinda big   
and empty..."   
"Would you like to sleep in here, tonight?"   
Anakin nodded, enthusiastically.   
"All right. Bring your bedroll in. I'll move mine over."   
Anakin went to his room to get his bedroll and the two men set   
them up together in the center of the room.   
"Obi-Wan?" Anakin asked as he was settled in the middle of his   
bedroll.   
"Yes, Anakin?"   
"How come ya never call me Ani? Like Mom and Qui-Gon used   
to?"   
"Well...I don't know. I never thought of it, I suppose."   
"Oh. And I wanted to say thanks for letting me have the big room.   
That was real cool of you."   
"Not at all. You're a young boy. Young boys need lots of space to   
bounce around. Besides, I have this debilitating fear of large rooms. Give   
me space and I just can't handle myself. I start sweating, shaking...it's   
impossible to function."   
"You're doing that thing again when you're making stuff up with a   
straight face, aren't you?"   
"Yes, Anakin, I am."   
"Ok, just checking. 'Night, Obi-Wan."   
"Good-night, young Padawan."   
  
  
  
The next day, Obi-Wan and Anakin ventured into town.   
"Can I drive?"   
"Can you find the town?"   
"'Course I can."   
"Very well, then." Obi-Wan saw no harm in allowing the boy to   
take them into town. He was, after all, an accomplished and experienced   
pilot, and the trip to town was short and direct. He settled himself in the   
passenger seat and brought the hood of his cloak around his head.   
In all his 25 years, Obi-Wan had never once known anyone to gun   
the engine of a landspeeder. That was about to change. Anakin shoved his   
foot on the gas and let the fuel flow into the engine before releasing the   
brake. The landspeeder took off like a shot. Obi-Wan felt his breakfast   
rise in his throat as his stomach dropped.   
"Anakin," he managed to get out, as he clutched the side and dash   
of the speeder.   
"This thing's great!" Anakin said, banking hard to the left to gain   
more speed. "Maybe we can soup it up with a 327 power converter and a   
few extra conduits."   
Obi-Wan swallowed hard, closing his eyes.   
"Whoops, tree." The landspeeder banked again, then rocked back   
to level. By the time it screeched to a halt in town, Obi-Wan was certain   
that no landspeeder was built to do the things he had just experienced. He   
climbed shakily from his seat and when his feet touched the ground, he   
experienced a feeling of complete and total gratitude to the Force for   
protecting him and keeping him safe through that hellish ride. He had   
never felt this way before, not even after defeating the Sith lord.   
"Anakin," he started, completely unaware that no sound was   
coming out of his dust-scorched lungs.   
"That was great, Obi-Wan! Can I drive home, too?"   
Obi-Wan drew himself tall, using the Force to refocus his vision and   
coughed the dust out of his throat.   
"No."   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan found things in town a bit more expensive than he had   
anticipated. Some of the repairs were going to have to wait. He bought a   
fair amount of lumber, a small amount of food, the cleaning supplies and   
the paint for the house. He would have estimated the paint as the last thing   
to be done, because it was merely for aesthetic purposes, but that had been   
Anakin's choice of color, and he wanted the boy to identify the cottage as a   
home sometime in the immediate future.   
He drove them home and set Anakin, who was still fuming over his   
banishment from the driver's seat, to work peeling the existing paint off the   
house. He took the lumber and a few tools to the side of the house and   
began making preparations for furniture.   
  
  
  
"Obi-Wan, I'm bored."   
"Finished with the front?"   
"Almost," Anakin mumbled. "But it's boring. I wanna do   
something else."   
Obi-Wan sat back on his heels, surveying the clutter of wood scraps   
he had accumulated.   
"Whoa. That kinda looks like a bed."   
"It is. It's going to be your bed. We can even paint it blue if you   
wish."   
Anakin studied the large wooden construct enviously. It was a   
square, blocky structure, obviously sturdy and well-made. It just screamed   
Obi-Wan.   
"It's great," he said, wishing he could make something that well.   
"Can I make something?"   
"Of course you can. How about the kitchen table? We're definitely   
going to need someplace to eat once this house gets clean enough."   
"Ok. I'll do that."   
"Good. Make it big enough so that we can have a couple guests.   
I'm sure you'll be wanting to bring friends to dinner once we get settled in.   
How about you start work on that, and I'll go in and start chipping away at   
that kitchen so we can have dinner tonight?"   
"Ok."   
Finally, Obi-Wan thought with just a touch of pride. We're going   
to make this work, after all.   
  
  
  
"Um, Obi-Wan?"   
"WHAT?"   
Anakin took a step back. Never once had he heard the Jedi raise   
his voice. Obi-Wan turned around, and suddenly all became clear to   
Anakin. The Jedi was covered from head to toe in soot and grime, and   
carried the mysterious smell of kitchen cleansers and antibacterial agents.   
"Anakin. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to raise my voice." He coughed,   
harshly, lung irritated for a second time that day, this time from the   
chemicals with which he was working. "How is the table?"   
"Yeah, well, that was what I was going to ask you about."   
"Oh? Is there a problem?"   
"Well...not anymore."   
"Not anymore? Are you done?"   
Yeah, I'm done all right, Anakin thought, glumly. "Well, I fixed   
that problem. I think I might have another one, though."   
"All right." Obi-Wan coughed again. "Give me a minute. I'll come   
look."   
Anakin surveyed the kitchen as Obi-Wan blotted his face and hands   
on some old rags. The kitchen was definitely shinier than it started out.   
"Obi-Wan?" He touched a countertop tentatively. "Is this part   
supposed to be silver?"   
"No. I think some of the chemicals were a little too strong. The   
paint seems to have stripped off."   
"Oh."   
"And we'll have to rewire the stove. I have some keth patties in   
there, now, but they seem to be cooking rather fast. I don't think I'll have   
time to make anything to go with them. We'll just have ration sticks."   
"Oh. Is that why the oven's smoking?"   
"What?" Obi-Wan leapt for the offending appliance. "Get me a   
plate!" He opened the oven and smoke billowed out.   
"We don't have any plates. We didn't get any."   
"Get me the rolls, then."   
Obi-Wan's voice was terse, so Anakin went and got the package of   
rolls and handed Obi-Wan two of them.   
"Ow. Did we get pot holders?"   
"No."   
"Towels?"   
"No."   
"Hand me my cloak."   
Anakin gave Obi-Wan his cloak, which he used to lift the keth   
patties off the oven rack and into the rolls.   
"Aren't you supposed to use a tray for them?" Anakin asked,   
hesitantly.   
"We didn't buy a tray. Here, put these on the table. I'll be out in a   
minute."   
"O-kay-ay..." Anakin said, walking outside with the keth patties.   
He used to like keth patties ok. His mom used to make them, and they   
were pretty good. They were kind of like jerky except that they were   
breaded. The things Obi-Wan had pulled from the oven didn't look much   
like his mother's patties, though. For one thing, the ones smoking in his   
hands were kind of black...   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan was relieved that ordeal was over. Cooking was not one   
of his strengths, and the oven was obviously miswired. He wiped his face   
on the now-filthy cloak and threw it in the living room. They would eat   
outside. He had made a couple of chairs before he'd started on Anakin's   
bed, so at least they could sit at the table. At least that was what he had   
counted on.   
"That's the table? Where are the legs?" Obi-Wan stared at the   
good-sized rectangle sitting barely 18 inches off the ground.   
"See, that's the problem," Anakin started. "The one leg was too   
short...so I had to shorten the other three...but I got one too short..." Obi-   
Wan closed his eyes and held up his hand as Anakin trailed to a halt.   
I will not become angry, he told himself. There is a very simple   
way to remedy this. He took a few more deep breaths, calming himself as   
he searched for such a remedy.   
Anakin looked at his mentor, timidly. Obi-Wan seemed to be   
putting himself in a meditation trance right there. His eyes were closed, his   
head tipped up, and he was breathing very deeply. Just when Anakin was   
starting to wonder if he should tug on his robe and make sure he was not   
about to explode, Obi-Wan's eyes snapped open and he made his way to his   
tools. Anakin watched curiously as his master picked up a saw and calmly   
cut down the legs of the two chairs he had made earlier to fit under the   
too-short table.   
"There," Obi-Wan said, satisfied with his handiwork. "Now, pull   
up a chair and eat your keth pattie."   
Anakin took his chair and pulled it to the table. He was surprised.   
Most grownups would yell at him for screwing up the table. He did feel a   
little bad watching Obi-Wan try to tuck himself down under the tabletop,   
but then the Jedi looked up at him and grinned. Anakin smiled and picked   
up his keth pattie, stuffing it in his mouth.   
"How is it?" Obi-Wan asked, bringing his own sandwich to his   
mouth.   
"Ummm..." Anakin tried to bite through the meat. It wasn't   
working. "Mmmm." He pulled harder and managed to yank some food   
into his mouth. Then came the matter of chewing.   
"See? I knew it would be good." Obi-Wan took his own bite.   
"Errr..."   
They chewed in silence for a while, looking anywhere but at each   
other.   
"Mm. Little crispy," Obi-Wan finally conceded.   
A little horrible was more correct. Obi-Wan's attempt at cooking   
had failed long before the oven had malfunctioned. It was burnt and it was   
bad. Anakin would never have recognized the lumps as keth patties had   
Obi-Wan not bragged about them before they started eating. Still, he   
choked it down bravely, determined not to let Obi-Wan know how horrible   
the food actually tasted. He'd just wait for Obi-Wan to go to bed and then   
go find a leftover ration bar.   
  
  
  
Anakin had been listening carefully all night. Obi-Wan had gone to   
bed about half an hour ago. He had finished Anakin's bed after dinner, and   
had even let Anakin help paint it blue. Anakin had finished stripping the   
paint off the front of the house and started on the side. When the sun had   
set, Obi-Wan made him come inside and they sat in meditation for a while.   
When they brought his bed in, they quickly realized that there was no   
mattress to go with it, but Anakin could easily use his bedroll on the   
bedframe until one was purchased. Anakin did not ask to sleep in Obi-   
Wan's room that night...at least not yet. Instead, he waited 'til he was sure   
the older Jedi was asleep and then he slipped from his room and into the   
kitchen where Obi-Wan had stored the box of ration bars. Normally,   
Anakin hated ration bars, but they had to be better than dinner. He found   
them in a cupboard and was just pulling one from the box when the light   
switched on. He looked up guiltily to find Obi-Wan silhouetted in the   
doorway.   
"Toss one of those this way," his mentor sighed.   
  


"What is that slop?" Anakin squinted at the drivel in the bowl in   
front of him.   
"It's gruel."   
"It even sounds bad."   
"It is. But it's cheap and healthful. Hearty it is. Strong it will make   
you."   
Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan who cocked an eyebrow at him.   
"Three times a day Master Yoda eats it."   
"Oh, that explains it," Anakin said, swirling it with his spoon. "So,   
if I eat this, will I be short and green all my life?"   
"Probably. Although his answer would be, 'Strong Jedi you will be.'   
Don't feel bad. I ate the stuff three times a day for two months, and just   
look at how I turned out."   
He and Anakin studied each other for a moment. Anakin put his   
bowl aside.   
  
  
  
"About this no Podracing thing..."   
"We'll discuss it later, Anakin."   
"I wanna discuss it now."   
Obi-Wan turned from the stew he was attempting to assemble.   
Cooking was his least favorite of the chores but he saw it as his   
responsibility to feed and nourish Anakin as best he could.   
"Anakin, I said no. Do not challenge my authority again."   
"Or what? You'll make me meditate? Big deal."   
"Anakin!"   
"Never mind. I'm outta here."   
Obi-Wan winced as the door slammed, but told himself Anakin   
would be back. He had to eat, didn't he?   
  
  
  
Two hours later, Obi-Wan ate a bowl of cold stew by himself and   
looked outside. The sun was starting to set.   
  
  
  
Anakin Skywalker sat high in the tree in the backyard and stared at   
the stars. He remembered sitting on his balcony on Tatooine, watching   
these same stars with Qui-Gon. Anything had seemed possible, then. He   
looked down at his arms and legs which were pretty well scraped up with   
all his work around the house and Jedi training. That night, Qui-Gon had   
cleaned a cut he had collected working on the engines of his Podracer. The   
fastest one ever built. He'd proved that. Obi-Wan really wasn't very good   
at cleaning him up. He never really seemed to care about how Anakin had   
gotten each wound and he took way too long. Anakin wrapped his arms   
around himself and shivered. It was getting cold. He wished he could go   
back in the little house and curl up on his bed. Even if he was still using   
the bedroll as a mattress, it was nice to have his own bed. He wasn't ready   
to go back in and face Obi-Wan, though. He sighed and tugged his sleeves   
down. He hadn't had any dinner, either, but then again, he probably hadn't   
missed much. As the days wore on and Obi-Wan got more creative, the   
food got worse and worse. He heard rustling and felt someone nearby. It   
couldn't be Obi-Wan. The Jedi never went into the backyard and even   
referred to Anakin's seat as, "your tree."   
"Ow." The sound was more matter-of-fact than surprised. Classic   
Obi-Wan. "Anakin, you'd best be up here if I'm going to all this trouble to   
make a fool of myself."   
"I'm here," he said, quietly.   
The Jedi actually climbed quite gracefully. Anakin hadn't thought   
he would have had a clue how to climb a tree.   
"Good. It's time for bed. I've come to take you in."   
"I'm not going in."   
Obi-Wan stared solemnly at him with his slate blue eyes. For just a   
moment, he looked very young to Anakin and the boy wondered just how   
old he really was.   
"Very well, then," he said, still with no emotion. "That's your   
choice."   
He's going to let me stay out here and freeze? Anakin wondered.   
What kinda master is he? He watched Obi-Wan pull something out from   
under his cloak.   
"I brought this for you. It's getting chilly out here." Obi-Wan   
shook out the blanket, bracing himself against a tree branch and then   
tucked the cloth around Anakin's shivering shoulders. "Have a good night,   
Anakin. I'll leave the back door unlocked if you change your mind. Please   
remember our training session tomorrow morning." And he was gone.   
  
  
  
Anakin Skywalker could not remember ever being so cold before in   
his life. He had slept briefly and fitfully, but the cold had awoken him, and   
even the blanket Obi-Wan had brought out could not stave off the freezing   
winds. Finally, he gave in, scrambling clumsily out of the tree, limbs stiff   
with cold, and slid in the backdoor. Obi-Wan had been true to his word.   
The door had been unlocked, and he had even left a small lamp burning in   
the kitchen, the stew on the stove, and a few ration bars on the table.   
Anakin was too cold to appreciate the food, and stole silently to his bed,   
where he collapsed until the smell of gruel awoke him not many hours   
later.   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan was two breaths away from throwing the gruel out the   
window. He was certainly sick of it, and if Anakin hadn't loathed it the first   
time, he surely did now. Speaking of Anakin, where was that boy? It was   
well past his usual waking hour. He was about to go rouse him when   
Anakin stumbled from his bedroom, his robes tied sloppily and his boots   
still caked with mud.   
"Anakin," he started. "You're a disaster. Go fix your robes and   
clean up your boots."   
The boy scuffed away without complaint, something that bothered   
Obi-Wan. Maybe he had learned his lesson about talking back, he   
wondered. Anakin reappeared, his robes straightened and his boots half-   
heartedly shined. At least most of the mud was gone, Obi-Wan consoled   
himself and did not comment.   
"Good. Now sit down and have some breakfast."   
Anakin sat down and kind of looked into his bowl. He picked up   
his spoon and put it back down again. "I'm sorry, Master Obi-Wan, I'm not   
very hungry this morning," he said, voice hushed.   
Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at actually being called 'Master' but did   
not comment. The boy should have been starving after not eating the night   
before, but he didn't want the gruel either, so he just put the bowls up.   
"Very well," he conceded. "Go get your lightsaber and we'll work   
on your dueling." He watched Anakin slide out of his seat and head   
toward his room. There was something very, very wrong.   
  
  
  
Anakin Skywalker could not concentrate. His head swam and his   
vision produced two Obi-Wan Kenobis tapping lightsabers against his. The   
lightsabers were set on the lowest possible power, but the sting was still   
painful when Obi-Wan tapped his neck in a killing blow.   
"I beat you much too easily, my Padawan," Obi-Wan told him,   
hooking his lightsaber...actually Qui-Gon's...in his belt.   
"Yes, Master."   
"Anakin, are you all right? Look at me."   
Anakin raised glassy eyes to meet his mentor's and nodded   
listlessly. Obi-Wan's expression shifted from annoyance to concern. He   
crossed the room quickly, laying a hand on Anakin's forehead. The boy's   
skin was hot and dry against Obi-Wan's cool palm.   
"Ani, you're burning up," he whispered, suddenly struck with fear   
for his young charge.   
Anakin's response was to pass out cold.   
  
  
  
"Anakin. Open your eyes, my boy."   
Anakin squinched his eyes tighter. He didn't want to wake up, but   
the voice was insistent. Finally, he gave in and looked up at the kindly,   
older face smiling down at him.   
"Qui-Gon!" He sat straight up, throwing his arms around the Jedi's   
spirit form.   
"Hello, young Anakin. It seems you missed me."   
"I did! You came back!" Anakin's face suddenly sobered. "Why   
did you come back? Am I dead?"   
"No, Anakin," Qui-Gon said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But   
you are a very sick little boy."   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan laid a cool cloth on the sleeping boy's forehead and   
glanced outside. He had carried Anakin to his bed and tucked him in,   
adding extra covers. He needed to get to town and get Anakin some   
medicine, but he was afraid to leave his side. He looked back down at his   
Padawan. Anakin was thrashing around, babbling a little bit. He seemed   
to be talking to someone, glad they were there. Obi-Wan wondered if he   
was talking to his mother.   
"What is it, Ani?" he asked, softly. "Are you talking to your   
mother?"   
"No, Obi-Wan," a gentle voice said. "He's talking to me."   
Obi-Wan spun around. The spirit of Qui-Gon Jinn appeared,   
smiling kindly at him.   
"Master!"   
"No longer, Obi-Wan. Now, you are the Master."   
Obi-Wan turned his gaze downward. "Not much of one," he   
admitted.   
"Nor will you ever be if you believe that."   
Obi-Wan's eyes met Qui-Gon's again, this time, blazing.   
"Still headstrong and unmindful of the living force." Qui-Gon   
smiled at him. "Go get what he needs. I'll watch over him."   
Obi-Wan nodded, once, staring at his former master, as if blinking   
would make him disappear. He left the house quickly, concentrating on   
getting to the town as quickly as possible. He purchased some medicine to   
help bring down Anakin's fever and at the tavern asked for a large order of   
buundo soup. He could have gotten it canned and heated it up for much   
cheaper, and much faster, but he knew nothing beat good buundo soup for   
fixing sick Padawans.   
He leaned against the counter as it was being prepared, leaning his   
forehead on one hand. He remembered Qui-Gon's big hand against his   
forehead. Qui-Gon quietly ordering him to bed. The house filling with the   
smell of rich, hot buundo soup...   
  
  
  
"...and he burned the keth patties, and we have gruel every morning   
for breakfast. Sometimes I think he's trying to get kill me. I don't know   
why he took me as a Padawan."   
"Because I asked him to," Qui-Gon said, sadly. "It's very important   
that you be trained, Ani."   
"But Obi-Wan? Wasn't there anyone else around when you were   
dying?"   
Qui-Gon suppressed a chuckle. "I'm afraid not, Ani. Listen to me,   
boy. You may not believe me now, but I wanted Obi-Wan to train you   
because I knew he would do the best job. I wanted you trained by the best,   
Ani, and Obi-Wan is the best."   
"You wouldn't think that if you'd tasted those keth patties."   
  
  
  
Obi-Wan could not get back to the little house fast enough. Anakin   
was still sleeping, maybe a bit more peacefully. Obi-Wan could not see   
Qui-Gon's spirit, but he felt the comforting presence.   
"Open up, Anakin," he muttered, holding a tiny cup of medicine to   
the boy's lips. Anakin's mouth opened slightly, and Obi-Wan poured some   
down his throat. He followed it with a spoonful or two of soup, then   
settled back in a chair, a rather low chair, to observe his Padawan.   
  
  
  
"Obi-Wan's culinary...inaptitude...does not reflect in any way on his   
ability as a Jedi. Or his ability to train you as one."   
Anakin leaned back on the pillow, sighing. "I know. He's a great   
Jedi and all. I just wish he liked me better. He never gives hugs or pats me   
on the back or anything. He's always so cold."   
"Give him a chance, Anakin. He's learning, too." Qui-Gon smiled.   
"He's actually a lot of fun when he loosens up."   
"I wish he'd hurry up and loosen." Anakin grumbled. "Qui-Gon,   
why am I so tired?"   
"Your body is strengthening and trying to pull your soul back. It's   
time for us both to go. But before you do, I need to do something for   
me..."   
  
  
  
Anakin Skywalker opened his eyes to a dusky room. He hurt.   
Every part of his small body felt beaten and bruised and just plain sore. It   
was as if he had just gone through a great battle and survived. He turned   
his head to see Obi-Wan Kenobi asleep in the chair next to his bed. As if   
Anakin had called his name, Obi-Wan started awake, nearly falling out of   
his chair.   
"You're awake," he commented.   
"Yeah." Anakin found his voice scratchy. "I feel like bantha   
poodoo."   
"Watch your mouth."   
"Was I real sick?"   
"Terribly so. I was convinced you were at Death's Door. Since   
you're up now, I suppose I'll have to call the Jedi Council and call off the   
ceremonial cremation."   
Anakin was watching him suspiciously.   
"Then again, since you're up, I might as well have you do it. And   
while you're at it, there's a pile of dishes in the sink, your robes need a good   
scrubbing, it's time to paint the house, and I was thinking this afternoon   
would be an excellent time to clean out the garage."   
"Obi-Wan!"   
"What?"   
"Stop it." Anakin couldn't help but to grin widely at his master.   
"Sorry, Ani. I just can't help myself."   
"What smells good? Did you make it?"   
"It's buundo soup I got in town. Would you like some?"   
Well, since you didn't make it, Anakin thought. "Yes, please," he   
said aloud.   
"Very well." Obi-Wan put his hands on his knees and pushed   
himself into a standing position. "I'll be right back."   
"Oh! Before you go?"   
"Yes?"   
"Qui-Gon said to tell you that you're doing a great job and that he's   
proud of you. I dunno what he was talking about. I know it wasn't about   
your cooking. We talked about that and--"   
Obi-Wan was no longer listening. He'd had to turn away, lest   
Anakin see the tears in his eyes. 

The End   
  
  


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